Dealings of Fate and Death
by Adeya
Summary: Kenny dies; it's the norm In South Park. But what if someone's pulling the strings behind his deaths? What if him dieing has a purpose. What if time's running out? Kenny wants answers, and the only person he can get them from is . . . Butters? Slash
1. Prologue

I have recently fallen in lust with the pairing KennyXButters. Why? Well, it's a) Fucking SMEXY! b) Kenny keeps on dying and Butters is the closest anyone can get to being an angel Coiwinky-dink? I think not! And c) Um, hmm. . . They're both blonds?

Anyhow, because of this, I have been scouring the internet in search of some good fanfiction for this pairing . . . and there really isn't much out there. So I have decided to make my own fanfiction! I only plan it being about five chapters long, so I don't think I'll have a problem updating.

The characters your about to meet are all needed for the plot, and will not be in every chapter. Believe me, everything will be explained.

I do not own South Park

**Dealings of Fate and Death****

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**PROLOGUE: The Game**

**16 years ago, cloud six, level 2.**

Death nervously took one hand away from the five cards being clutched between his fingers, and (not for the first time that night) raised his thumb to his mouth and chewed on the material laying on the tip of the digit. The silk gloves with skeleton bones made out of chemicals painted on them (a gift from his mother) were wonderfully soft, and because of the long ebony sleeves of his robe, his hands looked like bleached bones; reaching out. They were Death's favourite gloves, not because of how well they fit, or the expense of the material, but because the macabre design glowed in the dark (which looked frickin' awesome when he went clubbing!). So usually Death took care of them, but tonight, Death was nervous, and his habits were digressing to what they were when he was his weapon of choice was a stinky diaper instead of a scythe, which as far as his mum was concerned, are just as lethal.

"I'm waiting Steve," lazily drawled a tall man who was bobbing his foot offbeat to an _imaginary_ beat while oozing dangerous levels of sex appeal.

". . . Don't call me Steve. . ." Death hated his human name, and Fate was the only god cocky enough to utter it since he took up his day job as grim reaper five-hundred-and-some years ago; gods can die too.

"Steve. . . Are you in or not?" Death knew it was risky; gambling against Fate, no matter how good the chances it was stupid—like _really_ stupid. But his hand was _so _good, and Fate, who had been gulping at fireball whiskey all night didn't look all that sober. Plus, even Fate occasionally lost a game of poker, and had in fact lost to Silence earlier. If he won, he would win back all of the lives he had lost, and that included the pretty girl he was planning on going clubbing with next Friday. If he lost, well, Fate had asked for a favour . . . and with Fate, THAT could be VERY risky.

"Death, 'cmon buddy, I gotta pee." Like Fate, Curiosity had been sucking down Depression's special little drink (Depression, Death's ex, had dropped the booze off earlier before running off) and apparently, Curio had consumed a wee bit too much. Five bottles were lying on the long table they were sitting at, just to her left.

"Ok, I'm in. . ." Death had to win, he had a great hand. So he pulled his physical hand away from his mouth and held his cards with both hands again.

"I got—"Curio did something that sounded like a hybrid hiccup burp that had taken singing lessons from dying cats being stepped on (amazing considering her form was that of a eleven year old girl). "—a two o'hearts and and a fo' o' blacky upside-down hearts!"

"Curio. . . What happened to your other cards?" asked Jasper, who was an ex-god of Cats (during the Egyptian period he was a main _godess_, named Bast but had retired when Curio had accidentally knocked off the nose off of a statue which had squished and killed his mortal form; this very happening was what sprung forth the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'). Jasper always made a point to look after the girl who was older than the Catholic religion and innocently destructive. Curio, who had been enjoying the experience of blowing across the top of one of her previously discarded bottles looked up, and grinned meekly as she pointed to the bottle furthest away from her. "I wan'ed t'see if they'd fit. . ."

". . . Oh . . . kay. . ." said Death, who turned away from the tiny figure who had decided to try and retrieve the sticky cards that were now lying at the bottom of a bottle. With the help of Jasper of course.

Pleasure and Lust; two fraternal twins (both being close to identical, and both showing way more skin than was necessary, even Pleasure, who was a boy) had shared a single hand called theirs next, "three of a kind," before going back to their conversation. Lust not even skipping a beat when she blindly reached out and took the new born Damien, Satan's son, who the old wrinkly man Samson was babysitting. Samson, like Jasper, had folded.

Death looked around, and his eyes once again landed on Fate, who was slouching in his seat, eyes not quite looking at anything. His foot still bobbing.

Victory was near. For the first time in Death's life, he was finally going to beat the chauvinistic bastard. And everyone in the room was going to see it. He laid his cards down, showing a straight flush. He looked up, a smirk spreading across his face only to stop. Fate, who had only seconds before looked barely coherent now had his usual cocky grin, eyes sharp and hard, no longer looking dazed with incoherency. In his hands the cards he had been holding were turned towards Death. Fate was holding a _royal _straight flush.

"You owe me a favour."

'_Shit . . ._ , 'was all Death could think. Curio got up to go to the bathroom.

**End**

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Yay, the prologue is finished! Just a simple little chapter. My first story! Man, did not think it would be South Park fanfiction . . . and I really didn't think it would be a pairing such as THIS.

What do you think of my characters? What do you think of Death? I based him on an episode of South Park Where the Grim Reaper appeared but still wanted to have some fun with him XD

Review Please.


	2. Straight Flushed

So this is Chapter number two. Hope everyone enjoys it.

Man I'm so pissed. I spent like six hours just looking up pics (114 in total) that I thought suited the song 'Bang' by Armchair Cynics for a SasuNaru amv (my first attempt) and I accidentally deleted them. . .

I used to play poker when I was a kid. That and rummy-five-hundred. But admittedly, I cannot remember how to play either, so I had to look up stuff about the game. Sorry if the terms used to describe hands of cards are off.

I do NOT own South Park; I just like fucking with the characters

**Dealings of Death and Fate**

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**Chapter 1: Straight Flushed**

". . . Straight Flush. . ."

"Godamnit!"

Stan and Kyle groaned as they flung their cards down onto the desk whilst Cartman mumbled "dirty, fucking, cheating. po'boy." under his breath. All four of them were currently in Ms. (or was it Mr.?) Garrison's Grade 11, English class, and were rather successfully ignoring their assigned homework; the reading of chapters 6 and 7 of The Catcher in the Rye. Not that Ms. Garrison was making it difficult; she was currently drooling all over her desk in slumber.

"You guys still going to the movies tonight? Kenny asked, he had originally declined the offer but was now having second thoughts. He had just won forty-seven dollars after all.

"Yeah, but we can't decide on what movie," Kyle said as he shuffled and dealt the deck of cards they were playing with, which were obviously Kenny's–each card had a different picture of nude women on it. Each one in a different pose.

"The dirty Jew wants to see 'The Gay-Ass Case of Buttons'. But I think we should see something that _doesn't _suck balls

"You thought?! Wow Cartman, let me call your mom and tell her the great news! Oh wait; she's probably too busy spreading her legs to care."

"Aye! Don't talk about my mother!" At the front of the classroom Ms. Garrison mumbled something and shifted, abruptly causing the entire class to freeze. Everyone was holding their breath while glaring at Kyle and Cartman for their outburst.

"Were probably going to go see 'The day the Earth Stood still' as a compromise," Stan said when it was deemed safe before he motioned for Kyle to give up the ace-of-hearts he held; they had moved on from poker to go-fish.

". . . I think I'll probably stick with my plans with Bebe."

"Manwhore," Kyle commented, while grinning.

Kenny grinned back. "And proud of it."

"One of these days you're going to get something you know." Kenny glared at Stan.

"I swear to fuck, if you just jinxed me, I will personally rip your balls off and staple them to your eyelids. Besides, _if_ I do, I'll just throw myself in front of a bus. Disease solved."

". . . Lovely cure . . . ," Kyle said, clearly not liking Kenny's solution.

"Yeah well. . ." The death challenged boy trailed off, suddenly much more interested in the figure that had abruptly slammed open the door and entered. Butters Stotch was _late_. Hot diggidy! The apocalypse was nye. The nervous boy was fidgeting with a scarf that was wrapped around his neck multiple times—Kenny couldn't even see half of his face—and was harshly panting. Obviously the delicate looking boy had run to school.

"Uh, sorry I'm late . . ." Ms. Garrison, who had woken when the door had hit the cement wall, blearily looking at Butters (who was still standing at the door) before blinking a few times and peeling the pieces of paper her drool had glued to her face, which soon blossomed a look of annoyance.

"And why is it that you're late, Mr. Stotch?"

"Uh, well shucks Ms. Garrison, I missed the bus."

"And why is it, that you are so inept that you missed the bus, while the rest of the class are capable of doing such an easy task?" Ms. Garrison had hit some sort of mental metapause a few weeks back. She had become a complete bitch ever since.

"Um, well. . . shucks Ms. Garris—" the flustered blond looked like he was about to cry.

"Just sit down Butters. You're interrupting the rest of the class's work." Mr. Garrison was right, the entire class had stopped what they were doing and were now fixated on the trembling figure at the doorway, well, if by 'work' she meant conversations and card games. The stares continued until Butter sat down across the room from Kenny. Face red from embarassment.

Ms. Garrison, now feeling that she had filled her bitch-quota for a day, attempted to go back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the class was back to screwing off whilst their teacher slept.

Kenny looked over at the moping boy across the room, and grinned. He knew what he was doing tonight. Standing up, Kenny loomed over his classmates. Years of not being able to afford to eat had not stunted his growth; he has six-foot-one. His eating habit had affected his girth though; Kenny was sharp and lean, his skin drawn sharp against the tight muscles he had developed working on cars and doing _extracurricular_ activities. All in all, as Kenny weaved his way through desks and made his way to Butters, he looked very much like a predator stalking his prey, not that that was too far off; Butters looked good enough to eat.

The years, like they had to Kenny, had been good to Butters. He wasn't too short, a mere five-foot-four compared to Kenny, his hair was short, still slightly longer in the front. His eyes big and a light blue, looking like pools of water on his alabaster skin. As far as Kenny was concerned, he looked like an angel. The only reason why he was still single or someone like Kenny hadn't come along and caught him was because a) he was still terribly naive, making him terrible boyfriend material, and b) he was still terribly naive, making him terrible fuckbuddy material (and he had morals, or something like that). Not that Kenny hadn't tried. Kenny had been hitting on the feminine looking boy since Grade 8. It had become almost like a hobby to Kenny to try and get him flustered and blushing, not that was hard.

"Hey babe, " Kenny said as he leaned his hip against Butters desk, causing the slightly younger boy to look up at him questioningly, his bottom lip still stuck out in a pout, and his face still flushed and covered with the scarf.

"Hey Kenny. . ." Looked like the boy had learned something after all; Butters was looking at him warily.

"So, you missed your bus?" When dealing with a species such as Butters, one must lure them into a _very_ false sense of security before swooping.

"Yeah. . ."

"Sleep in or something?"

". . . My alarm clock didn't go off. . ." Kenny narrowed his eyes; Butters had carefully chosen his words. Why would he need to do that? Weird.

". . .So you doing anything tonight?" Kenny said as he brushed some of his (rather shaggy) dirty blond hair out of his eyes, since he had stopped wearing his hood drawn tight around his head like protective head gear ('cause from what Kenny had been through, it couldn't protect shit, so what was the point?) his hair and voice were free to be heard and seen.

"Well . . . , I have a history assignment due for tomorrow, but I'm almost done it, so no. Not really." The similarities between Kenny and Butters could be counted on one hand, that included their hair and eye color, and the fact that both of them excelled at history.

"Well want to come to my house? We could_ play_ together." Butters, who had lost his wary look, now had it back full force.

"Well shucks Kenny, but no, no I don't." Jeez, Butters had just shot him done and run over him with a bus.

"Well, then I might be going to a movie with the guys," he motioned towards the three guys that were even in his peripheral vision were obviously watching himself and Butters. He was willing to go to the movies if he could manage to swindle Butters back to his house afterwards.

"Well. . . No, I don't think I can, my mom grounded me from the movies when she had found out what movie we went to last time." Kenny had to grin at that, the last time he had dragged Butters to the movies it was to see some gore-flick. Kenny had spent the entire movie enjoying the fact Butters was literally in his lap, attempting to hide his face in Kenny's neck. His grin disappeared though when he realized that Butters had once again refused his offer.

"You sure Butters?" Kenny asked again, "it will be fun."

"Yeah, but maybe next time Kenny," said Butters as the bell range for break and the feminine looking boy hastily got up and made his way to his next class. Kenny was left feeling an awful lot like he had been turned down nicely.

"Don't worry tiger, you'll get'im next time," Kyle said as he appeared next to Kenny, his face was pulled taught in a grin and his eyes were shining with laughter.

**End**

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'Tis done.

REVIEW PLEASE!


	3. Buttery Dreams

Maybe I'll get a review for this one? Eh? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

**Dealings of Fate and Death**

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**Chapter two: Buttery Dreams **(Believe me, the titles of the chapters will get worse)

_He pulled the dirty black tunic over his head. Earlier that day he had bought it from one of the servants, along with a pair of soft leather shoes which he already wearing. Leonitus looked down at himself, mentally checking off everything that he needed and finding them on his person. Money, a small quantity of food, and healing solvent were in the hidden pockets of his simple cloak (he was wearing his simplest and darkest one he owned. Black like his tunic and made of velvet so that it would soak in the shadows. Rope and a leather canteen of water were tied to his waist along with his favourite sword. Three small daggers were hidden in his shoes. He was ready. Leonitus was going to break out. Now he just had to pee._

_Ok, so maybe he should have gone __**before **__he had decked himself out in his escapee-wear, but hey, he was virgin to these kinds of activities. This was the first time he'd ever gone against his parent's will. At that was saying something, considering how demanding they were. _

_Carefully, he made his way down one of the many corridors of his parent's castle, making his way to the lavatory where he relieved himself. Soon he was once again on his way; skulking and keeping to the shadows as he made his way to the gardens. The gardens were never heavily guarded, mostly because the only thing that lay beyond them was a fifty-foot drop to the ocean which had sharp rocks as a welcoming mat. A wall surrounded most of the gardens, stopping only when it reached the end of land. Leonitus was planning to scale down the jagged rocks, then make his way back up them so that he would be outside the Palace walls. Chances are, he would fall to his death, but hey, Leonitus felt the risk was worth it. Well, maybe._

_Sadly enough, because of his detour, Leonitus didn't even make it to the large wooden doors leading to his freedom. A shadowy figure had caught his eye. If he had of been a few minutes earlier both would have missed eachother._

"_Who are you?" A smarter person, in the situation of trying to escape from his heavily guarded home, would have used an intruder as a distraction. Instead Leonitus, had called them to his attention, and they obviously did not like the idea of being caught._

"_Shit, now I haf'ta kill you," said the figure as he (the figure was very lean, but was definitely male) formed from the shadows. Leonitus, who knew how to use the sword at his side, had never even so much as hurt a fly in his sixteen years of life. And so, when the shadowy-guy leaped at him with a small knife, his body had, instead of grabbing his weapon and defending himself, had done the second most plausible instinct; ducking away from the blade whilst shrieking like a soprano rape victim. _

"_Shhhh! Aw fucking whore's titties!" _

'_Good going Leonitus, anger a guy who's brandishing a weapon at your_ _neck_'_ was all that that the blond princeling could think as he edged away from the cursing man wearing all black. Only his face wasn't covered with the color. Instead a white snarling fox mask lined with grey fur covered his head, muffling his voice and keeping all features hidden. 'Why don't you insult his mother while you're at it?'_

"_You! You screwed everything up!" the looming figure growled; using his dagger to enunciate every word he said. His blue eyes showing through the slits of his mask._

"_Um, I'm sorry?" Leonitus said, feeling oddly ashamed for disturbing whatever. . . Foxy was doing. _

"_Oh! You're sorry are you?!" Foxy growled inhumanly before letting out a cacophonic trail of curses when a small group of guards ran around the corner, each one yelling out in surprise to see an angry man currently looming over their prince._

"_Uh, hey guys. . . How are all of you?" Leonitus ignored the incredulous looks the guards (even Foxy in his anger raised an eyebrow at that one) gave him. It would be rude to not ask. And Leonitus was not rude._

_Foxy though, seemed to be just that. After throwing Leonitus a look of disgust he made a mad dash down the corridors, not one his steps even making a sound. 'He didn't even say goodbye,' thought Leonitus as he watched the guards give chase._

"Wake up. . ."

_Huh? Leonitus turned around and found no one there._

Groggily, Butters let his eyelids climb up his eyeballs. That was the weirdest dream he had ever had. It was so real, and so . . . rated T. . . Hamburgers, Foxy sure had a mouth on him.

Jeez, He was NEVER having leftover curry before bed again.

"That must have been some dream you were having. . ." Butters shot up in bed, suddenly alert as he searched his room. He found a visitor sitting in his computer chair. His window, which had been _closed_ when he went to bed was now glaringly _open_.

"W-what are you d-doing here?" Butters was afraid, very afraid. This was the second night in a row this stranger had entered his room. A stranger with glowing red eyes.

"I wanted to apologize—" Black silky hair lightly moving was the only indication that he had moved to the chair to the side of Butters bed."—For this." He motioned to the bruised spot on Butter's neck. The bruised spot that Butters had spent the entire day hiding under a scarf. "I'm sorry I couldn't control myself."

"T-that's ok," said Butters as he wistfully thought about how thousands of dollars of speech therapy amounted to nothing when he was in the sight of this dark sensual figure. "You're not going to d-do it again are you? If m-my mom c-catches you in here she'll ground me."

"No. I'm only here to apologize and to ask you two questions. And don't worry, she can't catch me." Butters looked up from his hands which were furiously being rubbed together at that comment.

"Oh, ok."

"What's your name?"

"L-leopold Stotch, but e-everyone calls me B-butters."

"Butters? I think I'll call you Leo." Butters smiled, Leo sounded like a brave name

"And w-what's your second question?"

"Have you ever wanted to leave here?" Butters grinned tightly at that. And answered the only way he could, "Someday."

**End

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**Chapter two is done! Woots! OMG! What is with the dream? Who's the stranger in Butters' room?

REVIEW PLEASE!


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